


Hedgewitch

by callmeflo



Series: if Wishes were Irises [2]
Category: Those Who Went Missing
Genre: Gen, Origin Prompt, before her transformation, lbr Lucie is totes a witch
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-03
Updated: 2019-03-03
Packaged: 2019-11-08 20:59:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 936
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17988428
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/callmeflo/pseuds/callmeflo
Summary: Plucked daisies are tucked into the little spotted mare's braided mane.





	Hedgewitch

Crisp, fresh grass stems crunch as they’re pulled from their roots. The delicate drops of dew on each blade catch on dark whiskers, only to be blown away with the occasional gentle snort and toss of the head. Wild grass grows the greenest, and the sweet aromas of daisies and clover flowers mixed in make it especially tasty.

The forest clearing is wide open but well covered by a canopy of colourful autumn branches, leaving just a small circle of star littered, dark sky visible between the branches above. The light reflecting off the full moon filters down, dappling the grass with a low, silvery glow, and making the condensation on the caps of toadstools glint as if touched by faerie magic.

In the centre of the glade, a wooden peg is driven into the soft earth. To it is tied an old, worn rope that trails several feet before reaching the knot that attaches it to a petal dyed halter. It’s handmade, as most everything the flower pedlar owns is, which also means it fits perfectly on the head of the horse it was crafted for.

A pair of brown eyes blink lazily. They’re almost completely concealed by the thick, creamy forelock that swings down from between furry ears, but her mistress usually braids it out of the way when they’re on the move. Her whole mane is perhaps absurdly long, passing the underside of her neck and resting on her shoulders, messy in the directions it grows and ununiform with its streaks of brown behind the poll.

Longer still is her tail, a tumble of the same white with the ends stained from road dust and murky puddles. It brushes the longer tufts of grass, sweeping along behind her. The four hooves are all a pretty seashell golden pink striped with chestnut browns as is characteristic of the appaloosa colouring. They look almost translucent when damp with morning dew.

The mare’s body is predominantly a rich mahogony when brushed out of travel grime and sweat marks, with large splodges of white tobiano - across the neck and shoulder, four stockings reaching varying heights, and a splash at the rump. The latter is dotted with bold spots darker than her coat, each ringed with a pale halo.

The markings are unusual on a horse of her build, evidently bred in by random or accident a few generations back in order to affect the colour but not the conformation, but she is striking in her individuality. She doesn’t quite reach fifteen hands high, thus barely matching her mistress shoulder to shoulder, but the thick hair and compact frame of her body are at odds with her fine, clean, athletic legs.

After a long day of steady trot eating up the ground before them, the horse trims down the patch of lush grass within her reach overnight with relish. Hours are spent dozing, ears twitching in dreams, before the dawn light and birdsong wake her once more. At sunrise proper, the soft hues of pinks and oranges tinting the world into warm colours to contrast the chilly morning frost, mist settles throughout the valleys, catching on tree trunks and hovering in the cool air. The elderly vagabond wakes with the sun.

Their wagon stands on four huge, wooden spoked wheels and was made light enough for the mare to pull alone despite its generous length. But then again, the weight of the wares stored on it is barely noticable even in a large quantity - paper thin petals, hollow stalks, bunches of leaves of all shapes and sizes. The pedlar owns little in the way of possessions, having no need for anything more than clipping and digging tools, lengths of twine, and writing materials, and having more would just mean extra luggage to haul around.

When on the long stretches between village inns, the mare’s owner sleeps in a nest of warm blankets under the water and windproof canvas roof of the wagon, surrounded by the fragrances of that week’s harvest as it hangs in bouquets from the rafters to dry out. She climbs out at first daylight and putters around for a few minutes, making sure nothing has been carried off by curious rabbits or squirrels, then runs a coarse brush over the mare’s coat. Her mane is looped up into loose plaits with practised ease.

Next comes the tack, oak brown leather turned supple with age but still strong, and the horse is dressed a piece at a time: the harness, girth strapped tight around her barrel and buckles fastened; the bridle, with its leather bit for her to worry and long reins to reach the wagon’s seat; and finally the wagon itself. The obidient mare backs into place and the shafts are lifted and secured, her mistress murmuring sweet nothings all the while.

They pack the final things up and set off, at a walk to warm up with the woman at the horse’s shoulder to keep her settled. Half way down the Welsh coast, having toured around the majority of the country the previous year, the pair have only a few weeks left of travel before they reach their most permanent home, the pedlar’s birthplace, the village of Goldhaven. It will be a happy reunion with her daughter and the mare will get the snowy season off to rest. Their collection of herbs and plants will be sold off for medicines, gardens, and teas, so that they can refill the wagon come spring.

“We’ve got another year in us yet, old girl,” the flower pedlar says fondly, reaching up to pet the mare’s soft muzzle.

**Author's Note:**

> origin prompt 1: original form
> 
> Base Score: 18 AP (Writing: 936 words)  
> +50 AP (Origin Prompt)  
> +5 AP (Personal Work Bonus)  
> +8 AP (Storyteller Bonus: 8 AP * 1)  
> Total AP per submission: 81
> 
> Base Score: 9 GP (Writing: 936 words)  
> +10 GP (Origin Prompt)  
> +6 GP (Storyteller Bonus: 6 GP * 1)  
> Total GP per submission: 25


End file.
